


Start Of Something New

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen, wanting a normal college experience, gains admission to MIT under his mother’s maiden name.  Free from the constraints and expectations of his family name, Oliver enters a world entirely foreign to him.  Everything is new and surprising, and none more so than the bespectacled blonde he suddenly finds in his life. OLICITY AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely got this idea from The Prince and Me. I wanted some secret identity Oliver Queen, so I wrote this! 
> 
> Quick note - I took some liberties with character interests, backstories, etc. So...don't be alarmed if you read something that seems a bit strange.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter One

Oliver stepped out of the town car, reaching up and adjusting his Ray Ban sunglasses.  The campus was bustling with activity:  students lugging boxes to their dorms, parents anxiously sending their first-borns off to the harrowing unsupervised life, upperclassmen watching this all lazily from the quad.  What was most invigorating to Oliver, however, was the complete lack of attention anyone was paying him.

            He’d spent most of his life with people looking at him.  It was part of the daily run of things when your family employed most of your town.  Starling City was known for few things, but among that slight list was Queen Consolidated. They’d made a name for themselves, and with that a name for the family.  Save, that name didn’t hold much weight outside city limits, and Cambridge, Massachusetts was just far enough that no one batted a lash.  Of course, he’d enrolled with his mother’s maiden name to be safe.

            He hadn’t told his parents that, just like he hadn’t actually told them he was going to MIT until a week before he was due to leave.  Like most things that his parents wouldn’t approve of, it was best to wait until the absolute last moment.  Before MIT, the plan – at least according to Moira and Robert Queen – had been for him to attend Starling City University while simultaneously taking some responsibility at Queen Consolidated.

            “You will be taking the company over when I retire,” his father had reminded him any time the opportunity arose.  For Robert Queen, that appeared to happen every other day.

            Oliver had nodded along, all the while applying to MIT and a few other select schools, hoping that he’d get his ticket out of Starling City. He ended up with options – MIT along with two other schools offering him acceptance – but there was no real choice to make.  MIT was perfect. It was far enough away that he’d get out from under his parent’s thumb, and it had a decent architecture program, Oliver’s true passion.

            So, he’d sent a letter of intent to MIT and then broke the news to his parents. They hadn’t taken it well, but he held his ground, spinning some tale of how he’d work at Queen Consolidated on breaks and would assume his rightful role in the family dynasty when he completed his four years.  He had no intention of following through with this, but it was enough to silence his parents. They could sense his promise was not genuine, but if their son had taken anything from them it was his stubbornness. He had made up his mind, and they decided that a four year detour was something they could manage. It was four years, after all, to convince him to change his mind.

            The town car had been their idea, although Oliver was wholly against it. The whole point of going to MIT was to blend in, and arriving in a town car didn’t exactly do that.

            “I can take it from here,” Oliver told the driver, pulling his two massive suitcases behind him, laptop bag hanging precariously from his shoulder. It was going to be a bitch to get to Krannert Hall – the map he’d looked at on the way there said it was a good two blocks away – but he’d manage.

            “Are you sure, sir?  You have a lot to carry there.”

            “I’m fine,” Oliver said.  “Thank you for your help.”

            The man nodded and then rolled up the window, pulling away from the curb. The campus was like a maze at this point in the semester, all the people around serving to impede foot traffic as much as the standing buildings.  He wove his way through the crowds, running over a few toes with his rolling luggage. Finally he arrived at Krannert Hall to promptly be told the elevators were out of service.

            “It really sucks,” one of the resident assistants said.  “Especially with all you guys moving in.  You can take the stairs, if you want.  The guy should be here soon, though.”

            Not having much faith in ‘the guy’ making a speedy appearance, Oliver headed for the stairs and made the laborious five flight trip up to his floor. It would have been a cinch if it was just him, but the heavy luggage made it nearly impossible. He was sweating and panting by the time he made it up there, sweat dripping down his temples and the back of his shirt damp.

            His room was 513, and he was relieved to find it was just to the north of the stairwell.  The door was slightly ajar and he nudged it open with his foot, walking in. He noticed the framed comic books lining the wall first, and then the petite blonde stretched out on one of the beds. She was laying on her stomach, flipping through some magazine propped on the pillow.  She glanced back at him and smiled.

            “Hi.”

            “Hi,” he said.  “I think I have the wrong room.  Or you do.”

            “Well, what room are you supposed to be in?”

            “I thought it was 513,” he said, putting his laptop bag down on the bed. He reached in and pulled out the welcome packet.  “Yeah, it says 513.”

            “Then you’re in the right room,” she returned with a grin.

            He glanced down at the paper again, and then back up at her. “I’m guessing you’re not Roger Silverman?”

            “Astute observations skills there, Watson,” she quipped. “No, I’m not Roger. He’s out tracking down your R.A. He had some wall art questions. Namely, if he’s going to be charged for the nail he just drove into the wall.”

            Oliver laughed.  “I think it said in the packet that you can’t use nails.”

            “That’s what I told him but he wouldn’t listen.  Typical male.  Anyway, I’m Felicity.”

            “Nice to meet you.  I’m Oliver.”

            “You look like an Oliver,” she noted, tilting her head to the side.

            “I do?” he asked with a slight grin, wondering exactly what that meant.

            “Yes. I mean, not that it means anything. I don’t know any Olivers. But I’d imagine they’re good looking. Which makes sense because you’re good looking.”  He smirked at that and her eyes widened slightly.  “I’m not hitting on you.  I swear. You’re just…you’re good looking. Empirically, so. Your face is all symmetrical and…wow…I just keep going on about it, don’t I?  I’m going to stop talking now.”

            Oliver let the silence between them stand for a moment and then said, “Well, thank you for that.”

            She swallowed hard and nodded.  “You’re welcome.”

            The door opened behind him and he could hear Felicity mumble, “Thank God.”

            “You must be Oliver Dearden,” a boy who looked to be about his age, if not a bit younger, said.  He had a stocky build and curly black hair.  He was wearing loose jeans and graphic tshirt that said ‘More Cowbell’.  He recognized the phrase from an old Will Ferrel SNL skit.

            “Nice shirt,” Oliver said appreciatively.

            “You get it?”  he said with a grin. “I can’t tell you how many people today haven’t gotten it.”

            “That’s a great skit.”

            “The greatest,” Roger agreed.  He held out his hand.  “I’m Roger. Which you probably guessed.”

            Oliver laughed.  “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

            “So, what’s the verdict?”  Felicity asked from Roger’s bed. 

            “No nails,” Roger said.  “We’ll have to get some of those sticky tab things from Target.”

            Felicity scrunched her nose.  “I hate the sticky tab things.”

            “What about the holes you already put into the wall?” Oliver asked. He didn’t know why he was interested, but this whole wall art debacle seemed to be a hot topic in the room.

            “We’ll get some white paint and just go over them,” he said dismissively. “They’ll never know the distance.”

            “Couldn’t you just do that at the end of the year?”  Oliver suggested.  “You know, use nails now.  Fix it later. It’s not like they’re going to be removing your comics and checking for nails.”

            Roger nodded slowly.  “I like how you think, Oliver.  You’re a renegade.”

            Oliver shrugged.  “I try.”

            “Crap, I’m late for my floor orientation,” Felicity said, jumping off the bed. “Don’t leave for dinner without me, okay?”

            “I won’t,” Roger said.  “Meet you on your floor at six?”

            “I’ll be there.”  She rushed out of the room, but then came back to the doorway and quickly said, “It was nice meeting you, Oliver.”

            “You too, Felicity.”

            Oliver watched her disappear from the doorway and said, “She’s different.”

            Roger was looking at the wall beside his bed, a framed comic in each hand, and said, “Felicity?  Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

            “Are you two dating?”

            Roger laughed.  “No. We did when we were about six, but things went south pretty quickly when I stole her ring pop.”

            “That is a pretty grave offense.  So, you two grew up together?”

            “Yeah. What do you think should go here: _Batman and Robin_ or _The Green Arrow_? I can’t choose.”

            Oliver watched Roger hold both up against the wall, then said, “I’d go with _The Green Arrow_.”

            Roger tried them both again and then nodded.  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

 

* * *

 

 

            When Roger and Oliver arrived on Felicity’s floor to go to dinner she was already waiting for them.  Oliver noticed she’d changed out of the sweatpants and hoodie she’d been wearing earlier. In its place was a khaki skirt and cream cardigan with orange detailing at the collar.  She had on chocolate brown leather boots that went up to just below her knees.

            Roger noticed her change, too, and said, “Are you cruising the dining hall or something?”

            She self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Of course you don’t,” Roger said with a grin, shaking his head.

            “It’s nice to see you again, Oliver,” she said, flashing him a congenial smile as they stepped into the elevator.  “Roger hasn’t forced his comic books on you yet, has he?”

            “No, not yet.”

            “I told him to wait at least a week.  But he usually doesn’t have that much restraint.”

            “You make me sound crazy,” Roger said unhappily.  “I just like sharing my passions with others.”

            Felicity snorted, walking out of the elevator after the doors slid open. The dining hall was just down the hallway, and already a line snaked around the room, co-eds anxiously waiting to swipe their card and eat.  They got in line and Felicity and Roger continued their banter, Oliver listening and nodding when appropriate.  He sort of liked hearing them argue.  It reminded him of how he was with his sister Thea.

            It was when they edged forward that he began to feel the looks. Disappointment spread in his chest. It had only been a few hours and already he’d been discovered.  He glanced around furtively and caught the onlookers.  It was a group of girls and they looked away quickly when they saw they were caught.  A few of them giggled, and he heard one say, “Remind me to chat up zip-up boy later.”

            He glanced down at his zip-up sweater.  Huh. Maybe he’d read that scene wrong.

            The rest of the waiting was uneventful, and before Oliver knew it he was facing an absolute cornucopia of food.  He’d grown up with basically anything he could have wanted, but it had never all been in one place.  Here, there was every dinner item imaginable at his fingertips.  He grabbed a bit of everything, crowding his plate to the point of disarray.

            Felicity was already seated at a back table with a tray that showed much more restraint than his.  It only held a plate of pasta and small brownie with rainbow sprinkles.  Her eyes widened when she took in his tray.

            “Wow. So, you took the all-you-can-eat pretty seriously.”

            “I might have gone a bit overboard.”

            “No such thing, man,” Roger said, settling next to him with a tray just as loaded – if not more – than Oliver’s.  He also had a bowl filled high with ice cream.

            “That’s so going to melt by the time you eat it,” Felicity pointed out.

            Roger held up his spoon.  “Not if I eat it first.”

            Felicity laughed, and then turned her attention to Oliver. “So, Oliver, tell me about yourself.”

            He was mid-chew, and grateful for it, as he hadn’t exactly pinned down his backstory yet. 

            “I’m from Starling City,” he said.  “My family runs a small business there.”

            “What type of business?” she asked, taking a dainty bite of her pasta.

            “Oh, you know, just the normal type.”

            “What’s the name?  Maybe I’ve heard of it.”

            Having no idea what to call his family’s fake business – as opposed to their real one – he glanced around frantically and his eyes fell on someone’s water bottle, a large sticker for the Riviera Boating Company wrapped around it.

            “Riviera Investments,” he said.  Thinking that she might look into it, he quickly added, “It’s a new startup. They’re just in the beginning stages of it, actually, but they’re really happy.  What about you?”

            “She has a good backstory,” Roger chimed in.  “It’s the stuff Lifetime movies are made of.”

            Felicity rolled her eyes.  “It’s not that good.  I’m from Las Vegas originally.  My mom waitressed at casinos when I was growing up.  I had a lot of neighbors watching over me, because her hours were pretty all over the place.  They made sure I had dinner and did my homework.  Anyway, my mom worked on getting her GED over the course of a few years – it was hard with her working so much – but she did eventually get it. She booked a standard 9-5 waitressing job at a local restaurant, and then worked her way up to manager.”

            “That’s amazing,” Oliver said. 

            “I owe everything to her,” Felicity said, pushing the last few bites of pasta around her plate.  “She worked her butt off so I could be here.”

            “What about your dad?”

            “He’s not in the picture,” she said crisply.  “He left when I was two.  I haven’t heard from him since.”

            Oliver felt that maybe he shouldn’t have asked about her dad, but she seemed fine enough with it.  She picked up her brownie and took a bite.

            “How is that?”  Roger asked her. “I was thinking of going and getting one.”

            “It’s not too bad,” she said after she swallowed.

            He planted his hands down on the table and stood.  “Alright, I’m getting one.  You want one, Oliver?”       

            “I’m good, thanks.”   

            Felicity watched Roger walk off toward the desserts and murmured, “He is going to be so sick tonight.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The night ended without much fanfare.  Dinner turned into a several hour affair as Roger went back to try just about everything in the dining hall.  Oliver couldn’t finish half of his tray, and watched in wonder as Roger packed away an arguably impossible amount of food.  It did prove to be too much, though, as Roger trailed after Felicity and Oliver to the elevators, hand resting on his stomach.

            “Is death by dining hall a thing?” he said, catching up with them at the elevator bank.  “Because I think I’m experiencing it.”

            “Drink some ginger ale when you get back to your room.  I stocked some in the back of the mini fridge,” she told him.

            “It was an impressive showing,” Oliver said, by way of condolence. “Many lesser men would have stopped at that second bowl of ice cream.”

            Roger winced.  “Please don’t say ice cream.”

            One of the elevators opened and they stepped in, Oliver pressing both his and Felicity’s floor.  His and Roger’s stop was first, and the doors slid open after a few moments.  Roger headed right out, going in the direction of their room. Oliver went to follow when Felicity grabbed his arm.  He turned back toward her, his leg blocking the elevator door from closing.

            “What I told you at dinner, can we just keep that between ourselves?” she asked.

            “About your family?”

            She nodded.  “I told you because you’re Roger’s roommate.  I just…I don’t want be known as the charity case, you know?  I want to be known for, well, me.  Not where I came from.”

            He understood that more than she could even know.

            “I won’t tell anyone.”

            She smiled slightly, ducking her chin into her chest.  “Thanks.  Well, um, you better get back to Roger.  He has a stash of Twizzlers behind the books on his desk.  Don’t let him get into them unless you want to smell vomit all night.”

            Oliver winced.  “I better go check on that. Goodnight, Felicity.”

            He stepped back and as the doors closed she said, “Goodnight, Oliver.”

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Felicity wanted to go to MIT for as long as she could remember. Most little girls had pictures of actors or boy bands on their bedroom walls, but Felicity had an MIT flag and torn pages from the MIT brochure she'd picked up after she'd passed through the campus during a family vacation. It almost felt like a personal rite of passage when she sent in the application, and it was an absolute dream when her acceptance letter came in the mail. For years she'd fallen asleep to the halcyon image of that acceptance letter, and now it was reality.

Roger getting in was an added bonus. Not only would she get to live her dream, but she'd get to do it with her best friend. For all the years she'd spent dreaming about MIT and imagining herself there, the first day was nothing like she'd imagined. She thought she'd be taking MIT by storm. She knew the brochures by heart, and she'd read up on her professors and came up with the perfect small talk topics for after class when she introduced herself to them and proved, yet again, just how much she belonged there.

Instead of the complete confidence she was certain she'd feel she was terrified. What if MIT didn't live up to her dreams? What if she didn't live up to them? Sure, she was smart, but everyone just seemed _smarter_. She found herself wishing Roger could be with her for her first class. It would be nice to have something familiar with her.

This was very much on her mind when she walked into Statistics 101, her gaze quickly flitting over the class and the honing in on a nice secluded seat pressed against the back wall. She settled there, reaching into her bag and pulling out her computer.

The room was empty save for her and one girl seated smack dab in the center of the front row. She didn't have a computer with her – only a notebook – and Felicity noticed that the girl sat perfectly still, back straight and chin proud. She didn't tap her pen on her paper or even glance around. Felicity was about to question whether or not the girl was human when Oliver walked in. The girl's head shifted to the side just a bit, and Felicity noticed her grip on the pen tighten.

So she was human after all.

Oliver grinned when he spotted Felicity and he walked over, settling into the seat beside her. She could feel her nerves begin to settle.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop.

She tilted her head to the side and mused, "Of all the classrooms in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine."

Oliver chuckled. "Did you just Bogart me?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"I have to say. I'm surprised by your choice of seat," Oliver said. "I would have pegged you for a front row type." The girl already seated in the front row turned her head ever so slightly. Felicity tilted her head toward the girl and Oliver quickly added, "Not that being a front row type is bad."

Felicity grinned. "I prefer a more passive seat in the classroom. When you're that close you get a lot of aggressive eye contact. Also, an occasional spray if the professor gets too excited about a given subject."

"You've really though this through."

"It's experience, actually," Felicity returned. "I used to be a front row sitter. But I learned. Now, you I would have pegged as a the back row type."

"And why do you say that?"

She glanced down at the book he'd pulled from his bag. "Well, for starters, you have the wrong book."

"What?" He glanced down at his book and then leaned over, looking at hers. Sure enough it was different.

"I think you got the advanced book," Felicity said, picking it up from his desk and flipping through it. "If you still have the receipt you can probably return it."

Oliver vaguely remembered stuffing it in the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing when he bought his books. He'd have to check when he got back to the dorm.

"Don't worry, I'll let you look on with me," she said. "Although, I will warn you, if you're a mouth breather that offer is revoked."

With feigned solemnity he told her, "I swear to you that I am not a mouth breather."

"Good. I'm glad we settled that."

The rest of the class trickled in, and then the professor made his entrance, looking stereotypically collegiate in his tweed jacket and bowtie. He walked over to the chalk board – Felicity was surprised dry erase boards weren't installed in the building yet – and wrote his name: Professor Danforth.

"Good morning everyone," he said. "I am your professor, Richard Danforth, and this is Statistics 101. If your textbook title does not include that word, you are likely in the wrong classroom and may make your exits as you see fit."

Felicity smirked, glancing at Oliver and his incorrect book.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "You're going to do this all class, aren't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, watching Professor Danforth as he scrawled something else on the blackboard. "Yes, I am."

 

* * *

 

Oliver sat through two more classes – which he luckily had the correct books for – before he returned to his dorm room. Roger was stretched out on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He glanced up when Oliver walked in and gave him a sort of salute as a greeting.

"Is that a new one?" Oliver asked, gesturing toward the comic book.

"Yeah. Although the writers are messing up everything, per usual."

Oliver nodded, as though he understood his roommate's strife – which he didn't – and settled on the edge of his bed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, groaning when he saw the home number flashing on the screen. Roger glanced up from his comic book.

"Bad call?"

"You could say that," Oliver muttered, standing up and heading out to the common area. He settled on one of the uncomfortable armchairs and then swiped into the call.

"Hello?"

"How much MIT swag have you bought me?" a high-pitched voice asked. "Because I expect at least a sweatshirt by Halloween."

Oliver grinned, relaxing.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?" he returned lightly.

"I prefer crewneck sweatshirts, by the way," she said. "But, if you already bought one with a hoodie I'll take it. Unless you still have the receipt, of course. Then you should return it."

"Thea, did you seriously just call to harangue me about MIT apparel?"

"Maybe," she said leadingly. "But, no. I didn't. I'm calling on behalf of mom and dad."

"And what do our lovely, disapproving parents have to say?" he asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Mom just wanted to make sure you're eating enough, getting sleep – you know, Mom stuff," Thea said.

Oliver could just imagine his mother fretting about what he was eating and whether or not he was having balanced nutrition. He wouldn't put it past her to send him a meal plan through one of those meals-on-wheels services, just to make sure he ate something green once in a blue moon.

"And Dad?"

"The same. Although, there was some grumbling about why you aren't taking any business classes. I believe the phrase 'head up his ass' was used."

"How poetic," Oliver grumbled.

"If it makes you feel any better, Mom did not actively engage in that part of the conversation. She excused herself to make a tension breaking cup of tea."

A few people passed in the hallway, their exuberant conversation contrasting starkly with what was becoming a rather drab exchange between Oliver and his sister.

"So, how else are things at home?" Oliver asked. As an aside he added, "You're not missing me too badly, are you?"

"No," she said promptly, causing him to chuckle. "Although Roy asks about you at least once per conversation."

Oliver grinned. Thea's boyfriend Roy and him had always gotten along well, even after a particularly scathing talk Oliver had with him at the start of his and Thea's relationship, which involved rather graphic illustrations of what would happen to him if he hurt his sister.

"But things are fine at home," Thea said. "I mean, it's different without you. We go through milk a lot slower."

Oliver snorted. "That's what you notice is different? The rate at which you go through milk?"

"You'd always flood your cereal bowl," she argued lightly. "So, we went through milk fast. Now, we easily can stretch it over a week. Especially now that Mom's switched to almond milk."

"She drinks almond milk now?" he asked in confusion. Last time he checked his mom wasn't lactose intolerant or vegan.

"Yep," Thea said. "All the women at the club have sworn off dairy. Apparently it's bad for the skin or something. Anyway, I give this one a month."

"That even seems a bit long," Oliver said. "Remember when they went on that chia seed kick? That only lasted for two weeks."

Over the years, Oliver and Thea had watched their mother be subjected to the club's preferential whims. The entire group would suddenly find themselves on – or off – a certain practice or food, and then just as suddenly – usually in a month or less – it'd be forgotten, the entire group trudging on to the next fad.

"Mom actually likes the almond milk, though," Thea said. "She hated the chia seeds. And for good reason. Sometimes I still feel like I have some stuck in my teeth."

Oliver had to agree with her there. The chia seeds were not one of his favorite club benders.

"How are things with you?" Thea asked.

"Good. I like it here.

"How's your roommate?"

Oliver thought about Roger and answered, "Different. I like him, though. Meeting people who are different from you is part of college, right?"

"Definitely. So, any nice potential sister-in-laws there? I do have to warn you, I will immediately veto anyone if they're a drama major. Do they even have that at MIT?"

Oliver laughed. "I don't think so. And, um, no, I haven't met anyone." His thoughts drifted to Felicity momentarily, but then Thea spoke again.

"That's surprising. Don't they know you're basically business royalty?"

Oliver swallowed hard. "About that…"

He told her what he'd done with using their mom's maiden name and how he hoped to keep his true identity a secret.

"So, you're basically lying to everyone," Thea said in disbelief. "Oliver, how can you not see this will blow up terribly in your face?"

"I'm not lying. I'm just…concealing a part of the truth."

"Yeah, you're concealing it with a fake last name," she pointed out.

He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. "It's Mom's maiden name. So, technically I have some claim to it."

"What about your roommate? Does he at least know who you really are?"

"No. I told you, Thea. No one knows."

He heard a low whistle on the other side of the line and rolled his eyes. His sister's voice filled his ear again as she said, "Yeah, this is going to backfire in a major way. At least tell your roommate."

Oliver thought of Roger, and how if he told him he'd in turn have to tell Felicity. He could just imagine their reaction, and even if he wasn't completely certain things would change between them, he wasn't willing to risk that.

Almost as if she could read his mind and see that she was on it, Felicity walked down the hallway toward him, textbook clutched to her chest. She smiled at him and he gave her a small wave.

"Look, Thea, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too," he said.

"And remember – crewneck!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Bye Thea."

Felicity was standing in front of him when he hung up and she asked, "Who was that?"

"My sister Thea," he said. "She wanted to check up on how much MIT apparel I was stockpiling for her."

Felicity laughed. "I can see she has her priorities straight."

"Roger should be in his room," Oliver said, glancing back over his shoulder at their room. The door was wide open. "He's reading some comic book that he thinks the writers messed up."

"Roger always thinks the writers are messing things up," she returned easily. "But I'm actually here for you."

Oliver blinked in surprise. "You are?"

"I figured you might not get your statistics book today," she began, sitting beside him and holding the book she'd had clutched to her chest out toward him. He recognized it was the one front their class. "So, I am letting you borrow mine."

"Don't you need it?"

She shook her head. "I did all the readings for this week over the weekend. So, I'm good."

"Thanks," he said, taking the book from her. "This is really nice of you."

"You're welcome," she said with a small nod. She watched him flip open the book and hastily added, "Just be careful with it. Try not to drop it or, you know, shove it anywhere. Definitely no pen marks inside. I like to keep my books in pretty good shape."

Oliver nodded. "I will treat it well. So, how was the rest of your first day?"

"A blur," she said, leaning back in the seat so that her shoulder blades touched the stiff cushion. "To be honest, it's not what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed of going to MIT for as long as I can remember," she said. "I just thought I'd feel more…comfortable. At home. I don't know, it's probably normal for the first day, but all I've really felt is a strong need to vomit."

"You seemed fine in statistics."

He was right. That was the one class where she'd actually felt moderately in control of herself.

"It was because of you," she told him.

"Because of me?" he said immediately.

"Yeah. Having someone that I knew – even minimally – made all the difference. It was like you were my anchor or something. You grounded me." She saw the look that flitted on his face at that and she quickly said, "And that is something really creepy to say to someone you've known for less than a week."

"No," he said immediately, reaching forward and touching her arm. "It's not creepy. Not at all. I'm just surprised."

It was the truth. He _was_ surprised, and oddly touched that his presence had such an impact on her. He could see where she was coming from, though. There was something about those first connections he'd made on campus, when everything was new and foreign, that felt particularly strong. They'd gone through something together – an initiation of sorts – and he remembered the loosening in his chest he'd felt when he walked in Statistics 101 and saw her seated in the classroom.

"Well, I better go," she said. "You have reading to get to."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Thank you again for the book."

"You're welcome," she said with a succinct dip of her head. She stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. "Just bring it to class tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay. Well, I will see you then. Tomorrow."

He grinned slightly at her stilted formality. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched her walk from the small seated area, taking the long way back to the stairway past his dorm room, peaking her head in briefly to say hello to Roger. After a few moments, his eyes lingering on the spot where she'd disappeared around the corner, he glanced down at the book in his hand and sighed, opening up to the next day's chapter.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The first month at MIT came to a close without much fanfare. Oliver hadn’t been kicked out – which was a fleeting thought during the first week or so – and him, Roger, and Felicity had formed a close, albeit unconventional threesome. They weren’t exactly the sort of friends he would have chosen back at Starling Prep.  Roger was nerdy almost to a fault, and sometimes Oliver swore he watched him sleep.  And then there was Felicity. She was everything he would have avoided before.  Stubborn. Mouthy.  Beautiful, sure, but absolutely done with any and all of his bullshit. 

            He’d never been someone who was turned on by someone not wanting him. There were more than enough people who did want him, so why waste his time on the ones who didn’t?

            Not that he was spending time on Felicity now.  They were strictly friends, and besides, she’d started dating this guy from her coding class and he was always lingering behind her with his ratty black hoodie and messy hair. 

            “Does he own a comb?” Roger had asked once.  “Because, it looks like he doesn’t.”

            Felicity, who had been working on something on her computer, off-handedly replied, “He owns a comb.”

            “Does he know how to use one then?  Oliver and I would be happy to demonstrate.”

            So, things were perking along and Oliver thought that this college thing actually might be everything it was cracked up to be when Thea showed up outside his doorway with a large duffel bag and pillow.

            “Thea? What are you doing here?”

            “I ran away from home,” Thea said succinctly, walking past him into the room. “Nice digs.”

            “You what?” Oliver stammered, staring at her stupidly as she walked over and started looking at the posters plastered above Roger’s bed.

            “It’s weird seeing posters up on your walls,” Thea said.  “Your room at home is so plain and boring.”

            “Yeah, Thea-“

            “But that’s probably only because Mom and Dad are so plain and boring and won’t let us put posters on our walls,” Thea continued.  “Don’t want to ruin the designer wallpaper.”

            “Thea-“

            “You know what, I like it here,” she said, standing up and walking over to his side of the room.  She ran her hand along the small desk and then over his dark green bedspread. “It has character. And you guys really did a lot with the space.  I passed this other room on my way here.  It doesn’t look half as nice as yours.”

            “THEA!”

            She looked over at him with wide eyes.  “What?”

            “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

            She sighed, sitting down on Roger’s bed.  “I told you.  I ran away from home.”

            Oliver shook his head.  “Yeah, but…you ran away from home?  Why?”

            “Why do you think,” Thea said dismissively.  “You know how mom and dad are.  They’re so stifling.  It’s like…they see the word through these special boring-people-lenses, and if you don’t see the world exactly the way they do then you’re immediately wrong. It’s ridiculous.”

            “What happened?”  Oliver asked knowingly.

            “They found some pot in my room,” Thea sighed.  “And it wasn’t even mine.  Marshall left it there last time he snuck over.”     

            Oliver wiped tiredly at his eyes.  “Please don’t tell me you told them that.”

            “Of course I did.”

            “Thea,” Oliver said in a tight voice.  “You don’t explain away one infraction by telling them about another.”

            “Whatever. Maybe if they weren’t so freaking uptight they would realize…”

            Oliver’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text as Thea continued to rail on about the elder Queens.  The text was from Felicity, and it told him that Roger and her were on their way up to his room.  They’d planned to grab some frozen yogurt that afternoon, and Felicity and Roger were later than expected.

            “…it’s not like pot is even that bad,” Thea continued.  “It’s practically organic.  And-“

            “Thea,” Oliver said sharply.  “I need you to stop talking right now.”

            “What has your panties in a wad?” Thea returned irritably. “I’m the one who, like, totally had her rights violated.”

            “Pot is illegal,” he said.  “So, your rights are fine.  But, um, my roommate and his friend are going to be up here soon and remember what I told you before about not telling them I’m a Queen…”   

            “You still haven’t told them?”

            “No.”

            “It’s been a month.  Oliver, you seriously need to tell them.”

He glanced at his phone, quickly trying to figure out how quickly Roger and Felicity would be at the room. It was a few minutes from the elevator bay to the room.  Sometimes Roger got distracted by a vending machine.  That added a few minutes.  Either way, he didn’t have much time.   

            “Please, just don’t say anything.”

            “I can’t believe you’re still lying to them,” she said, shaking her head.

            “I’m not lying,” he said promptly.  “I’m just…withholding a small truth.  It’s not a big deal.”

            “It’s your true identity,” Thea posited.  “That seems like a big deal.”

            “The Queen name is _not_ my identity,” Oliver returned sharply.  “I’m my own person.  I...” he trailed off, tightening his jaw.  “Just, please. Don’t mess this up.”

            “Fine,” Thea sighed. “But you owe me.”

            “Whatever,” he said dismissively.

            “A new bag of pot,” she finished with a devious grin.

            “Not a chance,” he deadpanned.

            “Come on, this is a college campus.  There’s probably, like, a dealer around every corner.”

            “That’s actually not the case,” Oliver said.  He heard Roger’s voice outside the door and before it opened he quickly said, “Remember what I said.”

            Thea rolled her eyes and then Roger and Felicity walked in.  Thea’s eyes widened a bit when she saw the pile of candy in Roger’s arms and Felicity’s bright ensemble.  The latter had taken to wearing colored tights and today was a particularly eye-catching combination.  She was wearing a white belted dress with bright red tights.   Her lips were cherry red and gold hoops dangled from her ears.

            “There’s a girl on my bed,” Roger said, stopping suddenly. 

            Beside him, Felicity snorted, and said, “Words we all thought we’d never hear.”

            “I resent that,” Roger deadpanned.

            “Roger, Felicity, this is my sister Thea,” Oliver explained.

            Thea hopped up from the bed and extended her hand.  “Thea Dearden,” she said, overemphasizing the last name. “I’ll be bunking with you for a while.”

            “No you won’t,” Oliver said, taking a hold of her shoulders and steering her away from his friends.

            “Oh, so you’re just going to put your sister out on the street?” Thea said.  “How Mother Teresa of you.”

            “Why are you here?”  Felicity asked gently.

            “Because our parents are Nazis.”

            “They aren’t Nazis,” Oliver corrected carefully.  “They’re just a little…overbearing.”

            “Overbearing? Remember when they wouldn’t let Robert Mitchum be my date for cotillion because he was, and I quote, garishly new money?”

            Oliver shot her a look as Roger said, “Cotillion?”

            At the exact same time Felicity went, “Garishly new money?”

            “The only person I know who went to a cotillion is Ryan Atwood,” Roger said slowly. “And he’s fictional.”

            “Be happy you don’t have to go to them,” Thea told Roger.  “They are boring with a capital B.”  She turned her attention to Felicity.  “And yeah, you wouldn’t believe how snobby old money is. It’s actually pretty disgusting.”

            Felicity and Roger just stared at her.

            “I’m going to grab a sweater from my room,” Felicity said slowly. “I’ll meet you guys downstairs in five.”

            Roger nodded.

            She walked out, sending a general wave to the three of them, and Oliver told Roger, “I’m just going to talk to my sister outside for a moment. I’ll just…”

            He grabbed Thea’s arm and dragged her outside to the hallway. After glancing around to see whether Felicity was loitering anywhere close, he hissed, “What the hell was that in there?”

            “What? I didn’t say anything about _you know what_.”

            “Cotillion. OLD MONEY?”

            Thea gave him a ‘what?’ look and when he shook his head she said, “Well, how was I supposed to know all of that was off limits, too?”

            “Hey, here’s an idea, use your head.”

            “Here’s another,” Thea hissed.  “Don’t lie to your friends.”

            Oliver went to say something but then stopped, exhaling sharply. “You want to go to frozen yogurt with us?”

            “No. Right now you’re being a jerk and I don’t like to be around jerks.”

            “Fine, you can just stay up here.”

            Thea snorted.  “I don’t think so. There’s an entire campus to explore.”

            “Thea-“

            “I made it all the way down here on my own without being kidnapped, Oliver,” Thea said pointedly.  “I think I can handle a few hours on the quad.”

            He didn’t want her to go, but he also realized that there was a much larger battle between them on the horizon and it was wise to save up his energy and reproving for then.

            “Keep your phone on at all times and be back here by five o’clock, okay? I’ll take you to the dining hall.”

            “Sounds like a plan, big brother.”

            “But right now, we need to call mom and dad.”

            Thea shook her head.  “No. That’s not a thing we’re doing.”

            “Thea, they probably have half of the Starling City police department scouring the streets for you.  We need to call them.”

            Thea sighed. “Fine.  But I’m not going home.”

            “Okay,” he relented.  That was an argument for later.  “Let’s just call them.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “So, your sister is really something,” Roger said, scooping a large spoonful of vanilla frozen yogurt topped with every type of chocolate topping the place had on hand.  “She’s, um, spirited.”

            “That’s one way to put it,” Oliver said.

            “She’s not actually staying with us, is she?“  Roger asked tentatively.  “Because, I mean, that would be fine.  But…our RA might get pissed.”

            “She’s not staying with us,” Oliver said definitively.

            Roger nodded, still looking distracted, and then asked, “Does she know that?”

            “Why didn’t you tell us you’re rich?”  Felicity asked, licking the back of her spoon. 

            “I don’t know,” Oliver said carefully.  “It didn’t really come up.”

            Felicity nodded.  “So, you weren’t keeping it from us?”

            Oliver’s face flushed.  “No, I…of course I’m not.”

            “I know that Roger and I aren’t from a lot of money,” Felicity said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to hide who you are.  We like you. Money bags and all.”

            Oliver stared at her, thinking that somehow this entire thing had turned itself around and she was the one pseudo-apologizing.  It was wrong – completely wrong – but instead of correcting her, telling them both that it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with him, he said, “Thanks.”

            They fell silent for a few moments as they ate their frozen yogurt. He didn’t know what they were thinking, and he wished that he did.  Felicity looked particularly introspective, and after a while he asked her, “What are you thinking about?”

            “Cotillions,” she said, surprising him.

            “Seriously?”

            She nodded.  “I bet you were a popular date.  All the girls wanted you.”

            He laughed, caught off guard.  “Yeah, uh, kind of.  I always went with my ex, though.  We dated for most of high school.”

            “She was your Marissa Cooper,” Roger said nostalgically.

            Felicity gave him a look.  “Roger, enough with the OC references.  Seriously.”

            “If you mean she made those four years a living hell, yeah.”

            Roger nodded solemnly.  “Definitely your Marissa Cooper.”

            Oliver laughed, pushing his now empty cup of frozen yogurt away from him.

            “Anyway, Thea was right.  Cotillions are pretty boring.  The food is good, though.”

            “That’s such a rich person thing to say,” Felicity teased.

            “Ha ha.  Very funny,” Oliver returned drily.

            “I try.”

            “So, where’s coding class guy?”  Oliver asked, hoping to avoid any more prying into his privileged life. “He’s usually one step behind you.”

            “Oh, we broke up,” she said simply.

            “And the entire world rejoiced,” Roger said.

            “Are you okay?”  Oliver asked. He’d never liked the guy much, but he seemed nice enough.  And Felicity seemed to like him.

            “Yeah. I’m the one who broke up with him, actually.  He got sort of competitive about our coding.  And, I was starting to think that sweatshirt was the only one he owned.”

            Oliver nodded knowingly.  “Roger and I had a bet about that, actually.”

            “I guess now we’ll never know,” Roger said.

            “Anyway, it’s fine,” Felicity said.  “I’m not really a relationship girl, anyway.  I like my independence.”

            “That’s the spirit.”

            “Besides, now I don’t have to shave every day.”

            “Okay, that went too far,” Roger said, nose scrunched.  “There is no talk of shaving in front of the frozen yogurt.”

            Felicity snorted.  “The frozen yogurt has ears?”

            “Yes,” Roger held stubbornly.  “And it is very delicate.  So, censor yourself, please.”

            Felicity smirked, exchanging a look with Oliver.  She leaned in toward Roger’s still half-full yogurt cup and said, “I’m very sorry, delicate frozen yogurt. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Thea was ten minutes late getting back to the dorm room, and Oliver didn’t think anything of it.  Even at thirty minutes he held back concern.  Thea never was good with schedules – she was notoriously late for everything – but when she was an hour late, even Oliver with all his knowledge of Thea and her, well, Thea-ness, was concerned.

            “Her phone’s dead,” Oliver said, clicking out of the phone angrily. “Of course her phone is dead.”

            “Maybe she just got lost.”

            “She does have the worst sense of direction,” Oliver thought aloud. “And a total lack of stranger danger. We need to find her now.”

            “Relax, we’ll find her,” Roger said.  “Just…let me call Felicity.  She’s good in a crisis.”

            Oliver nodded, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

            “My dog went missing when we were little and she jumped right into action. It turned out he was hit by a car, but we did end up finding him on the side of the road.”

            Oliver stared at him. 

            “And that’s probably not the story to tell you right now.”

            “No. No, it’s not.”

            “I’ll just…” he held up his phone and then dialed quickly, pressing the phone to his ear.  Oliver stood up, beginning to pace.  She’d been pretty upset when she left.  Moira and Robert Queen hadn’t been the happiest when they’d heard what she’d done.  The relief at their daughter being okay spiraled fairly quickly into anger and Thea had answered in kind.  She’d thrown all sorts of curse words at them – some that Oliver didn’t even recognize.

            “She’s on her way,” Roger said.

            “Good.”

            “I’m sure Thea’s fine,” Roger said, sounding less certain that he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “Really, though. I’m sure of it. Really?”

            “You said that last one like a question,” Oliver told him.

            “Yeah, I know.  I’m trying. This is why we need Felicity.”

            She turned up a few minutes later and Oliver saw immediately why she was good in a crisis.  She’d brought a campus map with her and spread it on Oliver’s bed.

            “Alright, so, mark all the places a 16 year old on the loose would want to go to,” Felicity said. “Think the party places. Cafes.  Anywhere with good coffee.”

            “Thea doesn’t drink coffee.”

            “Well, that’s good to know,” Felicity said.  “That takes out at least four potential places.”

            They went to work, circling the different places that Felicity could be. After they circled all the ones they could think of they headed out to campus to find her.  The frat houses were a bust, as were the few cafes that Oliver thought she’d head to for dinner.  They checked out the student union, quad, and even the library when he started getting desperate.          

            “I don’t know where else to look,” Oliver said, wiping at his eyes. “I mean, we looked everywhere.  Where the hell is she?”

            “Maybe she went back to the room?”  Roger tried.  “She could be waiting for you out there right now.”

            Oliver considered that, and just when he was about to say something Felicity called out for them a few steps back.  Roger and Oliver walked over to her.  She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking down at something on her phone.

            “What is it?” Oliver asked.

            “I was seeing if I could find anything on Facebook and then I saw this.”

            She held out her phone to Oliver.  There was a picture on the screen with two grinning girls with their arms wrapped around each other.  He didn’t recognize either of them, but he did recognize his sister in the background.

            “Do you know where this is?”  Oliver asked.

            “I just so happen to,” Felicity said with a grin.  “See that tall building through the window in the back? That’s Krannert Hall. The apartment has to be on the next street over.  The place looks pretty crowded, so I think at this point we just follow the loud thumping music.”

            “Let’s go,” Oliver said.

 

* * *

 

 

            The party ended up being some offshoot fraternity party that Thea sweet talked herself into.  Recognizing how much trouble she was in for sneaking off, she put up minimal resistance when Oliver told her to leave with him.  She did insist, however, on saying goodbye to someone named Terrence.

            “Who the hell is Terrence?” Oliver said.

            “Only the guy throwing the party.  Jeez.”

            “Let’s just go.”

            “He invited me, Oliver.  Leaving without saying goodbye would be rude.”

            Oliver’s eyes widened and he retorted, “Oh, like telling your brother you’d be back by five and running off to a fraternity party instead so he thinks you’re dead, maimed, or worse?”

            “Don’t be so dramatic,” she said.  “Besides, what’s worse than death?”

            “Human trafficking,” Felicity piped in.  Oliver gave her a look and she went, “What?  She asked.”

            “We’re leaving.  Now. You can send Terrence a fruit basket or something.”

            Thea left with him – albeit grudgingly – and they all went to the dining hall for dinner.  Thea was pointedly quiet while Felicity and Roger talked more to make up for the silence. By the time they got back to the dorm room Oliver’s ears were ringing from the sheer chatter. Roger went to the library to study, leaving Oliver and Thea by themselves.

            “Are you going to tell me what all of this was about?”  Oliver asked.  “Because I know it’s not just that you got reamed out by mom and dad. Tell me what’s going on.”

            “Nothing is going on.”

            “You ran away from home.  And then you basically ran away from here.  Something’s not right.”

            Thea shrugged, bringing her knees to her chest.

            “If you don’t tell me I’ll just keep asking,”  Oliver reminded her.  “I could do this all day.  All night. All very, very early morning.”

            That brought him a sliver of a smirk.

            “It’s nothing. It’s just…I miss you.”

            “So that’s why you ran to – what was his name – _Terrence_ ’ _s_ party.  By the way, I still don’t totally buy that that was his actual name.”

            Thea rolled her eyes.  “Why would he give me a fake name?”

            “There are a lot of reasons he’d give you a fake name.”

            “Whatever,” Thea said.  “I ran off because…I don’t know…I felt like you didn’t want me here.  I told you how awful things were at home, and it’s like you didn’t care.”

            “Of course I care,” Oliver said.  “But, come on Thea, it’s not like Mom and Dad are your captors. They’re doing what they think is best.”

            “Yeah, what _they_ think is best. It’s always what they think. Not what I think.”

            “They’re overbearing,” he admitted.  “I won’t deny that.  But, this isn’t news.”

            Thea picked at her feet.  “But you were always there before.”

            “What?”

            “They were always like that but you were there with me.  It made it better.”

            “Thea-“

            “It’s stupid.  I know. But, everything was better when you were home.  They had two people to obsess over. Now, all of their attention is on me, and…and I feel like I don’t live up to the person they want me to be. I can’t.”

            “So you ran away,” he said.

            “It seemed better than staying there.  I know I can’t stay.  I know that. But I thought if I could just have a few days with you it would seem better.”

            Oliver was quiet for a moment.  “You really missed me?”

            Thea grinned a bit.  “Yeah, you big goober.  Of course I did.”

            He returned her smile.  “Look, we both know I can’t do anything about Mom and Dad.  But I can see you more.  How about you come up here once a month.”

            “Really?”

            He nodded.  “Yeah. Once a month you can get away from everything in Starling City and visit me.  How does that sound?”

            In an instant Thea was off the ground and she threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders.

            “That sounds amazing!  Thank you! Are you sure it’s not too much for you?”

            “If it means you don’t randomly run away from home, it’s definitely not too much. Not even close.”

            “Thank you, Ollie.”

            He pulled her into him again, kissing the side of her head. “You’re welcome, Thea. And just for the record, you’re wrong. Whatever Mom and Dad envision for you – you can be that.  You can be even more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that IS Roger from My Little Corner Of The World. Obviously it's a bit different since him and Felicity grew up together, but it's intended to be the same Roger, just in a different universe!
> 
> If you want an update, let me know!!


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